Getting onto The Chef’s Table is like trying to join a secret society. Possibly even harder. Passwords, secret handshakes, and membership going back to great-grandpappy’s day are all required. Luckily my cleavage and the head waiter have developed a special rapport, and so Dad and I managed to by-pass the waiting list and get an invitation. However, the invitation doesn’t tell you when, where, or what time. It only tells you to meet for a pre-dinner meeting several days before the actual event. This we did. Along with the other 8 invitees. At this point we had to sign several waivers and declarations and promise to wear clean clothes and closed shoes. And here was I thinking I could pop down straight from the pool. We were also told the dinner would PROBABLY be held on April 25th BUT it could be cancelled at the last minute. What a rigmarole. I wasn’t sure whether to be excited or annoyed.
Anyway, the dinner took place last night. We were met in one of the bars by Jean-Paul, the maitre-d, who spirited us through the dining room and into the galley. Right inside the door were a couple of sinks, where we all had to wash our hands thoroughly and don white jackets. I was given a LARGE and Dad was given a MEDIUM! Oh, the ignominy. I told you I’d put on weight. From there we took the escalator (yes, escalator) down into the bowels of the galley. This is where Remo, the executive chef, came and met us. Remo and Jean-Paul, both Italian, were quite the comic duo and entertained us with canapes, champagne and witty repartee. We were then whisked up in the service elevator to the private dining room for a group photo with the captain. He left us to it, and Remo starting impressing us with his flambe skills. They actually had a fire extinguisher on hand. Just in case. The food was tasty, but quantity sizes were ridiculous. The main course alone was half a lobster thermidor and six slices of tenderloin each. Super-sized surf and turf. On the plus side, Dad did eat some vegetables. Not without telling me to lay off on the vegetable nagging. I’ve given him til the weekend. All the courses came with matching wine. The evening ended with us all being given a signed cookbook, a single red rose (for the ladies) and the group photo. It had been a fun evening but you can imagine after all that rich food and alcohol, and a very large, sloppy sea, I’m not feeling that flash today.
We have left pirate country (everyone breathe a sigh of relief), and our nearest landfall is Madagascar. Tomorrow we arrive in Mauritius.
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